A/N: Greetings, everyone!
First, as always, the reviewers!
Last White Feather - Yes, indeed! Brittana is love. :D Um...yes. Tina and Mike are dead and buried beneath hundreds of feet of snow and debris. :( Thanks for the review, like always, and I hope you like this chapter! :D
Cali Cheerleading Swagger - Thanks for the review! You're back! I didn't get a chance to thank you for the review you left after the epilogue of Impossible to Ignore, so I just wanted to say thanks now. You're too kind. :) Well, I hope the rest of this story doesn't disappoint! Thanks again. :D
Um...yeah. I just worked an 8-hour day without lunch or a break, so I'm kind of exhausted right now, lol. But, it just shows my devotion to you guys because the first thing I did after I kicked off my shoes was sit down at my computer and do some final proofreading of this chapter so I could post it. ;)
Anyway...there are some fairly intense things happening this chapter. I hope you guys enjoy it! :D
The Railyard at Wellington
February 27, 1910
"This situation is unacceptable, madam! I demand that you move the trains at once!"
An angry groundswell of support filled the dining room at Jones' Hotel. From her position on the far side of the room, Brittany could hardly bring herself to look at Santana's strained and tired face.
Just as Brittany had feared, the mood of the passengers had turned ugly, stretched to the breaking point by the setbacks of the previous day. Instead of a swift and early departure, the trains still sat motionless at Wellington.
The doubleheaded rotary was trapped between two slides to the west. No one even knew the exact location of the eastern rotary. No word of their predicament could be sent to the outside world. The telegraph lines were down.
But the final straw was a thing not even Brittany could have imagined. As the uncertain nature of the trains' departure had become so clear, the Joneses had been forced to make a drastic decision. There simply weren't enough supplies to feed the train crews and passengers three meals a day. From now on, there would be only two meals a day, breakfast and dinner.
Where once breakfast had been sumptuous flapjacks, eggs, and bacon, now it would be toast and porridge. Any meat there was would be saved for the evening meal. All servings would be strictly portioned.
Disheartening as the rest of yesterday had been, the announcement of food rationing had been the spark that had ignited the powder keg of the passengers' emotions. Though she had initially been surprised at the heat of the outburst, by now Brittany thought she understood what had caused them.
It was such an easy step to imagine their situation going from two meals a day to one, as the food supply slowly but surely dwindled. If the weather didn't clear soon and no word of their situation reached the outside world, it wouldn't take an avalanche to wipe out the passengers and train crews. They would all simply starve to death in the mountains.
The passengers' fears for their safety had exploded in angry demands. Just as she had when news of the Cascade avalanche had come through, Santana was bearing the brunt of them. Superintendent Figgins was gone once more. Shortly after breakfast, he and several other men had set out on foot in an attempt to reach the depot at Scenic in the hope that the telegraph there was still working.
Scenic marked the end of the hairpin turn the tracks took on the western side of the tunnel, to help the trains lose elevation. It was only a matter of a few miles on foot. But the trains couldn't simply head straight down the mountain. Even for the crews it would be treacherous going. No one knew what the conditions would be like. There was every chance the Superintendent and his men would be unable to reach the depot.
Instead of consoling them, Figgins' departure had made the passengers even angrier, even edgier. It felt to many as though they had been abandoned. Shortly after Figgins had left, a large group had demanded a meeting with a railroad representative.
Brittany watched as Santana turned her head to focus on the man who was demanding that the trains be moved. The movement was stiff, as if just holding her head up required effort.
"Where would you suggest I move them to, sir?" Santana asked quietly.
"How dare you?" the man shouted, leaping to his feet. He banged his walking stick upon the floor and Brittany belatedly recognized Judge Schuester. "How dare you patronize me?" the Judge demanded.
Santana passed a hand across her forehead slowly. Even from across the room, it seemed to Brittany that she could see the Latina visibly working to restrain her temper.
"I beg your pardon, sir," she said, her tone still quiet. "I intended no disrespect, but merely to pose a simple question. You want the trains moved, I understand that. However, what I cannot seem to impress upon you—upon any of you—" Santana raised her voice. Her dark eyes roamed the roomful of angry passengers. "—is that all of us who work for the railroad genuinely believe that the trains are safest right where they are. There is simply no other place to which I can move them."
"What about up into the snowsheds?" a voice near Brittany demanded.
"Or the tunnel?" asked Mrs. Fabray.
"The tunnel is completely out of the question," Santana said at once. "It's cold and wet, and would trap the steam and coal smoke. You could all suffocate in a matter of hours."
"Don't heat the cars, then," a third voice called out. "We can take the cold."
Santana shook her head emphatically. "I'm sorry," she said, true remorse evident in her voice. "I cannot run the trains into the tunnel."
"You mean you won't!" the man with the cane said, thumping it once again for emphasis. "We've made a perfectly reasonable request, and you're refusing us."
"Sir," Santana began, her inner irritation beginning to seep through in her strained voice. "I—"
But the man rode right over her. "Have you looked at that snowfield above the trains?" he shouted, his voice reverberating off the walls of the dining room. "The slope is completely white from all the snow we have had. The tops of all those dead trees are completely covered over. That whole mountainside is just waiting to come down. It's an avalanche waiting to happen. I say the trains should be moved into the tunnel without delay. And if you're cowardly enough to refuse us, then I demand that you put your refusal in writing!"
"Here, here!" voices cried out.
"You should be ashamed of yourselves!"
An astonished silence fell upon the dining room. Then Brittany heard a soft rustle of garments as, one by one, heads turned to stare in the direction of the newcomer. As Brittany realized who it was, she felt her body begin to tingle in shock. It was Brittney who had spoken.
Brittney stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room, her hands on her hips, her sky blue eyes sparkling. Her face was flushed an angry red. Brittany had never seen her look so forceful.
"You should be ashamed of yourselves," Brittney said once more. "Santana and all the railroad crews have been working day and night to get us out of here. As far as I can make out, all you've done is to complain about your own comfort. The other women have helped Mrs. Jones cook and serve your meals. But the only man of you who has helped do anything at all is Noah Puckerman. If you want something done so much, why don't you stop talking and do it yourselves?"
"With all due respect, it's not our job to make sure the trains keep running, ma'am," Judge Schuester answered after a startled moment. "That's the job of the Great Northern. Much as I commend your desire to support your fiancé—"
He broke off as Mrs. Fabray began to whisper to him, furiously. "Oh," he said, his head swiveling between Brittany and Brittney. "I beg your pardon, Miss Pierce."
Brittney's face paled and her hands dropped to her sides. Brittany could practically see the fight go right out of her. Her desire to defend Santana had been so strong, she had forgotten that, as far as the other passengers were concerned, she didn't have the right to.
"No one is more concerned for the safety of the trains and passengers than I am, ladies and gentlemen," Santana spoke evenly into the strange, tense silence. "Absolutely no one. But what I cannot seem to make you understand is that I couldn't move the trains into the tunnel even if I thought that was best."
"Why the hell not?" the Judge demanded.
Santana's sharp eyes shot to his face. At the expression in them, Judge Schuester sat down abruptly.
"You say that you've looked up at the snowfield," Santana began, her quiet voice traveling easily to all corners of the silent dining room. Her eyes roamed over the assembled passengers, one by one. "Have you looked beneath your own two feet? Have you looked at the tracks? Can you even find them?
"There's nearly three days' worth of accumulated snow on the ground and on the tracks, and I have no way to clear it. Even if I knew for certain that that hillside would come down, I couldn't move the trains. I have no working rotary."
As the enormity of what she was saying sank in, Brittany could hear one of the women begin to weep quietly. It was what she felt like doing herself. They were trapped, just as surely as the doubleheader at Windy Point. Stuck fast, with the great snowfield rising straight up above them.
Brittany stared across the room at Santana's tired, desperate face. Without warning, she shivered. Goosebumps tingled along the surface of her skin. In her heart, even in the midst of her love, a terrible fear began to blossom.
There was a reason she couldn't see the future, and it had nothing to do with the situation with Brittney. She couldn't see the future because there wasn't going to be one. Brittany was going to lose everything she held dear in this cold, forbidding place.
She was going to die at Wellington.
"Britt?"
Brittany started at the sound of the familiar voice, but her eyes never left the snowfield.
She had spent the day on the train helping Rachel Puckerman and the other mothers occupy the restless, fretful children. Since their time on the train was now extended indefinitely, Sam and the porter on the Similkameen had made the decision to leave about half of each car made up in sleeping berths. That way, the children and older folks could rest if they needed to.
Brittany hadn't seen Brittney since her outburst in defense of Santana. She had tried to speak with the shorter blonde after the tension-filled meeting in the dining room without success. By the time she had made it across the room, Brittney had vanished.
Brittany was worn out from her long hours in the close, hot train car, filled with the smells of worried, unwashed bodies, the cries of fussy children. The air in the cars felt thick with fear. Brittany began to fear that she would suffocate.
Finally, just before dinner, an exhausted Rachel and her children had fallen into a troubled sleep. Brittany had returned to the Winnipeg, bundled into her coat, and slipped from the train. Anything was better than staying in the train car, even staring up at the snowfield which threatened them. Standing at the side of her Pullman car, gazing upward, Brittany could see that the Judge had been right in his description of it. All traces of the blackened trees had vanished as if they had never existed. The snow above Brittany stretched as pure and white as icing on a wedding cake.
Wedding cake, she thought wryly. No matter which way her mind went, it found only trouble.
"Brittany?" the voice said again. She turned, finally taking her eyes off the snowfield.
"Hello, Santana," she greeted the brunette with a small, warm smile. She wrapped her arms across her chest. It was the only thing that kept her from wrapping them around the Latina. Santana looked beyond exhausted. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her beautiful face almost devoid of color.
"How long has it been since you've had any sleep?" Brittany asked, not bothering to conceal her concern in her voice.
"I don't think I can remember," Santana replied with an attempt at a smile. She moved to stand beside the blonde, her arms at her sides, staring up at the great, white snowfield as though it would help her to gauge Brittany's troubled mood. Brittany slowly let her eyes follow the shorter woman's.
"Santana" she said after a moment. "If I ask you something, will you answer me honestly?"
"Of course," she answered at once. "What is it?"
Brittany took her eyes from the snow to watch the Latina's face. "Are we going to die here?"
She saw Santana's jaw clench, as though she were biting down on an unwelcome answer. In the next instant, she had turned and pulled the blonde to her in a tight embrace, fervently whispering in her ear. "Nothing is going to happen to you, Britt, I swear. If I thought I was going to lose you I—"
"Don't," Brittany interrupted, pressing trembling fingers against the Latina's full mouth. "Don't. I shouldn't have asked. It's just—when I try to think about the future…" She trailed off, unable to finish that thought. She started to drop her hand back to her side, but the Latina captured it and brought it back to her mouth, pressing a soft kiss to the center of Brittany's palm.
"There's only one thing you need to know," she murmured, staring intently into Brittany's ocean blue eyes. "I love you."
Brittany felt her heart explode within her. She had given up her past, could see no future. The only thing she had was this.
"I love you," she whispered back ardently. "I will always love you."
"I thought you were going to rest."
Startled, Santana spun around, her arms dropping to her sides. "Miss Pierce!" she exclaimed.
Brittany looked past the brunette to where Brittney stood in the snow. Brittney's eyes looked back. They were strangely blank. Brittany couldn't read the expression in them.
"I thought that you were going back to the train to rest," she said again, her eyes softening as they left Brittany to look at Santana. "I heard you promise Noah Puckerman."
Santana swept a hand across her face, in weariness or embarrassment, Brittany didn't know which. "You're right," Santana said. "I did. Thank you for coming to my defense this morning," she added sincerely.
Brittney blushed crimson. "You're welcome," she said quietly, looking away bashfully. All of a sudden, she seemed to remember what she had come for. "Mrs. Jones sent me with a fresh pillowcase for you," she went on, lifting the piece of bedding she held in her hands. "If you tell me which berth is yours, I'll put it on for you."
"I'm next to the women's washroom on the Similkameen," Santana answered automatically. "Lower berth on the right as you walk down the car. You can tell which one is mine because the upper berth isn't made up."
"But what am I thinking?" Santana asked suddenly, passing a hand across her face once more. "I couldn't impose on you like that, Miss Pierce. If you'll give me the case, I'll do it myself, but I hope you will give Mrs. Jones my thanks for her thoughtfulness."
Brittney stepped forward and handed Santana the pillowcase, but Brittany was sure that she could see her reluctance. She wants to do something for her, Brittany realized. Anything to stake her claim. "I'll do that," Brittney promised, smiling warmly at the tired Latina.
"I'll go in, then," Santana said. "It's cold out here. Don't stay out too long."
She moved swiftly along the path to the train and climbed aboard. Brittany was left alone with Brittney. An awkward silence stretched between them, as vast as the snowfield. Brittany had no idea how to reach across it. They had started out so close together, but each day that had trapped them on the train had driven them farther and farther apart.
"Brittney."
With a fierce gesture of one hand, Brittney cut her off. The expression in her pale eyes was easy to read now, Brittany thought. Pain. Anger.
"I don't know what you think you're doing," Brittney snapped in a hard, choked voice. "What you think you feel for Santana. It's not important. I only care about one thing."
"What's that?" Brittany asked.
Brittney gave a bark of laughter. The bitterness of it stole Brittany's breath. "You're so clever—don't you know?"
"Brittney," Brittany pleaded. "Please, it doesn't have to be this way. I never meant to hurt you—for any of this to happen."
"But you're not sorry now that it has, are you?" Brittany challenged. "I may not be outgoing, the way you are, but that doesn't make me blind or stupid. I see what Santana feels for you. But she's a good person, Britt. She deserves better than what you're giving her. She deserves to know the truth."
Brittany felt a heaviness in her chest, as if a great stone had come to rest upon her heart. "I know she does," she answered quietly.
"Well, when were you thinking of telling her?" Brittney asked sarcastically. "When the two of you are standing at the altar? 'Oh, by the way, dear, I hope you won't mind if I trade places with Miss Pierce.' "
"Stop it!" Brittany said sharply, finally goaded. "This is as difficult for me as it is for you. It's not fair to blame me, Brittney, and you know it."
"I don't know what's fair anymore," Brittney cried. "All I know is that you're taking her away from me. You're breaking your promise. How is this going to work out all right, Britt? How? Can you tell me that?
Brittany was silent.
"I didn't think so," Brittney said derisively. "So I will tell you my plan, Miss Brittany Pierce. If you haven't told Santana the truth by tomorrow morning, then I will."
With that, she turned on her heel and walked back toward the hotel, leaving Brittany staring after her.
Late that night, Brittany lay in her bunk, gazing up into the darkness. All around her, she could hear the sounds of her fellow passengers. The snores of the men. From time to time, the whimpering of children. She could hear Brittney breathing deeply and evenly just below her. But Brittany didn't think she would ever get to sleep. Her thoughts moved in the same spiral, over and over.
She hadn't told Santana.
As much as she had agreed with Brittney that the Latina deserved the truth, in the end, Brittany hadn't been able to bring herself to do it. She had been unable to face the look in Santana's warm brown eyes when the brunette discovered who she really was. Unable to face a future without her.
Restlessly, Brittany rolled over onto one side, her eyes fixed on the motionless green curtain. Even with her back to it, it seemed to her that she could feel the vast expanse of the snowfield, rising in silent menace up the mountainside behind her. Instinctively, her fingers reached for the comfort of her mother's ring, and then clenched in frustration as she realized Brittney still wore it.
Soon she would wear another ring. Santana's ring.
And Brittany would have nothing.
She shifted positions again, pressing her face against her pillow to keep from crying her frustration, her desire, aloud.
If only I could have some token.
Some part of Santana that would belong to her—to them—alone. Something that no one could ever take from her. One memory that would burn in her heart for all the empty years to come, brightly enough to warm her for a lifetime.
Brittany threw back the covers, unable to lie still any longer. She knew what she was going to do now, the most impulsive act of her entire life. She was going to go to her. Even if Santana refused the thing she offered, she would know that she had acted according to her heart.
The wooden floor of the Winnipeg was icy against Brittany's bare feet, the connecting passage between the two sleeping cars so cold it stole her breath away.
Then, finally, Brittany was standing on the Similkameen beside Santana's berth. She took one moment to steady the roaring of her heart, and then eased the curtain open.
Tired as she was, the movement roused Santana immediately. In the dim light, Brittany could just make out her outline as she rose up to one elbow. Brittany could see her eyes glittering in the dark.
"Britt?" she heard the Latina whisper incredulously.
In answer, she stepped forward, leaning down to place one palm over Santana's heart. As she felt the frantic scramble of it, Brittany knew that Santana's need matched her own. Knew that the brunette understood the thing that had driven Brittany to find her.
"Britt…" Santana sighed her name out, no more than a breath of sound. Then Brittany felt one strong, sure hand clasp her own, easing her down until they lay heart to heart, while the other pulled the curtain closed, shutting out the world around them.
A/N: Before anyone asks, yes, if the berth is a-rockin', don't come a-knockin' hehehe ;) For those of you who read my previous story, the reasons for no explicit sex scene are still the same. I do not have confidence in my ability to write such a scene in a believable, enjoyable way, so I'm going to leave it up to your imaginations, okay? I'm sure you guys can figure something out... ;)
I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I will be back with the next, as always, in the not-too-distant future! :D
